


Fond Memories

by DandylionPuff



Category: Star Wars
Genre: F/M, Prequel to the Sequel, Rose and Hux are teenagers, artistic liberties with the planet, but also making up a lot of my own stuff, trying to be canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22513753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DandylionPuff/pseuds/DandylionPuff
Summary: An exploration of what General Hux might have meant when he said he had “fond memories” of Hays Minor.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13





	1. Hays

A bead of sweat dripped rebelliously down his nose, despite the cold, and Armitage held his breath as it snuck into the collar folds of his thermal. For once he was thankful for the suffocating helmet with it’s darkened visor. As long as he stood at attention he would be fine. Safe for as long as he could blend in. His lungs burned as he willed his chest to remain still, the air slipping in slowly through his nose, so that no movement would betray his fatigue on the white expanse of his breast plate. His eyes darted nervously behind the visor as he watched a snowflake swerve its fall around the tall reaper slim man as he paced in front of his platoon. The man he had once called father but now called nothing. He no longer had the words. 

The problem with the man who had been his father wasn’t so much that he was mad like all the officers whispered to each other in the quiet moments on the Triumph as it hurtled through space. It was that he still perfectly effective and lethal in his insanity. Brendal Hux was not just one mad man but three all wrapped up in the same wiry pale package. General, Father and Killer all worked in perfect harmony. The real trouble was that Armitage was never sure who of the three he was seeing- and knowing mattered. The same strategy that might pacify the General would not subdue the Killer...

...So Armitage remained silent. 

The platoon leader shifted as Brendel Hux paced past and continued his briefing on the moon. There wasn’t much of interest. Small, snowy and full of mines, it was the same as the previous four the fleet had conquered in the Otomok system so far...cold and boring. Armitage stifled a yawn. The General paused in his pacing and drew in a breath through his nose, his nostrils flaring as if he was sniffing out prey. Armitage flinched, the flash of guilt hidden under his visor, and straightened his shoulders. The General had been on edge, more so than usual, ever since the fleet had arrived on Hays Minor. The whispers had speculated that being assigned to conquer such a small moon was a slight to the mad man’s ego but Armitage suspected that he was the source of the General’s foul mood. Ever since he had been assigned to Seven he had seen how the older man’s eyebrows furrowed in displeasure whenever he passed. For any other father in the empire his assignment in one of the top ten most elite squadrons would have been a source of pride but Brendel Hux only gloated over an achievement if it was the best. Armitage knew he was a disappointment. 

Something dark flashed over the older man’s eyes as they slashed over the platoon. 

His eyes fell on Armitage and sharpened into a laser focus on the young boy. His lips curled feral as he spoke. 

“AH4894 is there anything you would like to add to our little planet-side briefing?” The words plumed over the platoon and settled over Armitage in a soon dissipating fog. 

Armitage grit his teeth at the sound of his serial number. To be stripped of his name was humiliating which is exactly why his father had done it. He would have to do everything right to get it back. 

He sucked in a breath and tried not to shake his head, an old habit from his time long ago with his mother, a habit he knew would earn him the wrath of at least two of his former father’s triad of personality. He licked his lips under the visor, a new habit to replace the old, and answered, “No, Sir.”

Brendal smirked wider and gestured towards the snowy expanse of forest that surrounded the clearing, “Then perhaps you are uncomfortable with our current assignment. Planet too cold for you?”

Behind him someone stifled a static chuckle but Armitage kept his jaw set shut. His feet tensed to remain at attention as his mind wandered briefly over a memory of his old home and it’s warm arid sands. He suppressed a shiver. Even if this planet was too frigid he would never admit it. That would not help him get his name back. He squared his shoulders and fixed a bored expression on his face. It would not be seen through the visor but he hoped it would translate his pretend indifference through his voice modulator, “No Sir, Hays Minor is...adequate.” 

The cold air condensed on the edges of his visor, thick with the tension that fell over the platoon as Brendel Hux contemplated his answer. Armitage braced himself but instead the older man cackled a harsh biting laugh and turned to his lieutenants. 

“Divide and group the troopers according to their assignments.” He slid an icy blue eye back toward Armitage. “When we have finished I have every confidence that the Supreme Leader will find our accomplishments here more than...adequate.” 

———————————————————

“Lucky! Looks like your husband will be tall Rose!” 

Rose crinkled her nose down at the little pile of bones splayed out in front of her sister. Paige was at that age, as her grandmother had put it, where she was obsessed with the most mundane bits of the future. Instead of scrying out something interesting, like when they would die or whether they would ever get off Hays and finally live for once, Paige was content to divine up countless bits of pointless information about men or women who probably didn’t exist. 

Rose stood and brushed the snow off of her parka. It crunched under her boots, “we should get going. It’s getting dark. Baba will worry about us....”

Paige plucked a bone from the pile and tucked it into the pocket of Rose’s parka, “worry about you, you mean, I’m already 16.” 

Rose rolled her eyes but didn’t remove the bone. Ever since Paige had turned 16 last moon she had gloated about her immunity but Rose knew better. The troopers didn’t care how old or boy crazy you were. They only cared if you were young and vulnerable which they both would be after dark. Rose stuck her tongue out at the setting sun and slipped her hand into her pocket to feel the bone. It was almost the length of her hand and, more importantly, the edge was sharp just like she liked it. It would do fine until they got back home. Annoying as Paige might be sometimes she never forgot the little rituals that made Rose feel safe. 

In the distance a rumble sent a scatter of featherlings tittering into the air. The panicked cries of the small bird like creatures fell across the trees like shards of glass. Rose wrapped her scarf tighter around her face and hustled back towards the waiting speeder. Paige followed reluctantly with the sack of parts they had spent the day salvaging from the wreckage site. Rose bounced on her heels as Paige strapped the sack to the speeder. The sooner they were back home the better. 

Paige followed the featherlings with her eyes and sighed, “I wish I could see one up close...” Rose hopped up behind the sack as Paige mounted the speeder and coaxed the motor running. She gripped on tightly as it lifted and accelerated back towards the camp, “The forest is too dangerous Pai Pai. That’s the first place they look.” 

Paige hunched her shoulders and frowned. She knew about the tales the elders whispered to each other around the campfire after the morning meal. Rose didn’t have to remind her. The troopers were no tall tale. They really did steal kids in the night, bought them too if a family was desperate enough and more of the surrounding camps were disbanding. The worn remainders of the most recent across the river had arrived this morning. Rose shivered at the memory of them stepping out of the morning mist like soulless ghosts. 

It didn’t take long to reach the camp. The hodgepodge heap of tents and makeshift cabins scattered along the bend of the Hiluang River in the space where the thick forests receded into the endless stretch of semi permafrost. The area would be grassland in a few moons but now, as it remained for most of the planet’s cycle, it was enveloped in a thick blanket of snow. A tall thickly bundled figure waved to the pair as they glided into the camp. Paige practically leaped off the speeder in excitement with a whooping shriek, “Uncle Tao!” 

The young bearded man crinkled almond eyes into a twinkling smile and scooped the eldest sister into a twirling hug. He set her down with a thump and moved to help Rose off the speeder. 

Rose threw her arms around him and gave him a squeeze as he set her down on the ground, “What are you doing back so soon? I thought you’d be up north for another week?” 

He grinned impishly and gave his beard a tug, “Your Baba called me back to watch the camp while they have a summit in the mine.” He glanced sheepishly between the two girls, “Don’t tell her I told you. It’s supposed to be a secret.” 

Rose and Paige grinned to each other. Ever since the troopers had landed in the northern hemisphere, the elders had held meetings in the ore mine every few moons to plan ways to be rid of them. The girls knew their grandmother played a key role in the planet wide resistance but she always insisted that they be shielded from the fighting. Still despite her and their parents best efforts the whole affair had long stopped being a secret from her granddaughters. 

He helped them unpack the load of parts and carry it to the small shanty that was their home. 

Paige twirled at the threshold, her boots tapping against the creaking wood, sending clumps of snow spraying into the ground below. She grabbed her uncle’s sleeve and pulled him through the door. “Tell us about the North!” She squealed in an excited whisper, “Did you bring us a present?”

Rose rolled her eyes as she closed the door behind them and helped Paige and her uncle shed their soaked outer layers. Despite the airs Paige liked to put on at the scrap pile, she was childish when it came to their traveling uncle. Rose suspected part of it was because Paige was jealous. Uncle Tao was like the wind. He could go anywhere while she and Paige were stuck at home. 

Uncle Tao laughed and gathered the coats to hang them on the drying rack in front of the fire. He flopped down on the fur rug sprawled across the otherwise barren wooden floor and began work on his boots. He shrugged his shoulders and tilted his chin towards his coat, “I brought some Starlights for you both. They’re in the left pocket.” 

Paige squealed in delight and rushed towards the coat to grope greedily in the pockets. Rose grinned and held out her hand as Paige bounded towards her with the little silver packet. Into her palm shook a colorful handful of crystal sugar spheres. She popped one in her mouth and sighed—her eyes closing. The sweet taste dissolved over her tongue. Starlights were their favorite and so hard to get after the blockade. Uncle Tao had really gone out of his way. 

Rose tucked the rest into her pocket and took a seat by her uncle, “Thank you.” 

Her uncle grinned and pulled her into a warm bear hug, “anything for my girls.” He released her and moved to scoot his boots into the corner of the room. As he did his sleeve slid to reveal the long black mark of an arrow on his forearm. Rose and Paige both gaped. 

“Uncle Tao! You got married?” Paige squeaked. She yanked his sleeve up further. Scrolled across his forearm was an ornate image of an arrow. Rose gasped. Everyone on Hays knew what an arrow meant. Her parents shared the same mark on their arms, as did their grandmother. It meant you were promised to someone—forever. 

Their uncle grinned and shrugged, “Engaged actually. I was going to wait until your Baba came back to spill the beans.” 

Paige clapped her hands and shimmied her shoulders in an excited dance, “What’s their name?”

He grinned bashfully, a pink blush spreading over his cheeks, “Henri.” 

Rose threw her arms around her uncle, “I can’t wait to meet him. When will we see him?” 

He leaned into her hug and sighed, “I don’t know Rose, he’s stuck on the other side of the blockade, that’s why I need to talk to your Baba. I need her help.” 

The air grew solemn in the little home. Paige scooted close and joined the hug. Outside the sun slipped down under the horizon casting them into darkness with only the light of the fire to comfort them as they waited. It would have to be enough.


	2. The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage gets his ass handed to him.

As soon as he awoke, he shivered instantly. Snow had melted and had seeped past the dura-plastic of his armor plating into his poly blended bodysuit. He turned onto his side and angrily swiped at the snow that clung to his visor. The effort produced a cough that had him falling back into the snow. He groaned and looked up at the sky above. A white line streaked across the sky—the only evidence of the transporter that had abandoned him. He knew exactly how it had happened too. Kriffing Wheeze must have pushed him out of the transporter.  
Wheeze wasn’t her real name of course. None of them had names anymore, but serial numbers were impersonal and forgettable so everyone improvised. Generally, the results were unflattering. Wheeze’s name was a cruel onomatopoeia. It was the unmistakable sound that gasped angrily past her voice modulator whenever the poor girl was nervous- which was every time they reached any significant altitude.  
She had been unconsciously reinforcing the moniker earlier, before the fall, with each breath as she knocked him in the stomach. They had been standing to attention, lined diagonally at an angle- the only position available in the older model due to the lack of seats, and Armitage had grit his teeth as the durasteel walls trembled with the effort the old craft made as it hurtled well past its optimal speed. The ground was a blur of white through the open sides of the craft as the transport whined towards the location of their temporary base in the 14th sector and Wheeze was hyperventilating as usual. Armitage had been trying to go over the schematics of the terrain in his mind but the bony elbow repeatedly hitting his ribs had been derailing his focus.  
He had tried to settle the matter with a quick kick to the back of her lower shin. The choice hadn’t been one of his tactical triumphs. With a howl of fury, that gargantuan nerf herder had returned the gesture by throwing herself backwards like some kind of Mando and had head butted him in the face. The resulting brawl was a blur that Armitage had no desire to remember.  
Screaming himself up onto his feet, Armitage blinked back tears and surveyed the landscape around him. The white expanse was gone in favor of a tall canopy of pine. He had been extremely lucky to land in a small clearing in the middle of an ample snowdrift. Overhead twin moons blinked down at him like mismatched eyes. Clearly some time had passed since his fall. No one had come back for him. He hadn’t expected them to. He was disposable after all. It was a waste of resources to search for one trooper.  
He would have to find his way to the base himself.  
Once he was steady on his feet he reached behind him and felt a disturbing absence on his back. He turned scanning the terrain around him until he found the object of his search. Behind him in the snow lay his knapsack. He sighed in relief and grabbed it out of the snow with a grunt. He reached into the sack and rustled down to the bottom until his gloved hand passed over the wrapper of a ration bar. He ripped it from the depths and flung the sack over his shoulder. With effort he pried his helmet off and devoured the bar, hardly waiting for the wrapper to fall from the sticky cylinder as he ate. After he was finished he stuffed the wrapper into his mouth and chewed. The wrappers were made to be biodegradable and were technically edible. Armitage grimaced as he swallowed. Leaving evidence was foolish but he disliked the bitterness of the mineral wrap. He scooped some snow up and shoved it into his mouth. It melted on his tongue dissolving some of the taste.  
No longer hungry but still sore, Armitage started off in the direction of the left moon. If the briefings on the planet were correct, the second moon that set in the southwest would lead him in the direction of the base.  
As he walked Armitage closed his eyes for a moment and savored the feeling of fresh air on his face. It was crisp and much too cold for him to be without his helmet long but damned if it didn’t feel almost sacred after so long hidden behind his visor. Perhaps someday if he found the way he would feel the air on his skin every day. One day when his father was hopefully dead and Armitage was standing with his own silver stripes and his own name he could breathe on any damned planet his chose.  
A root caused him to stumble out of his thoughts. He blinked and was startled to find that he had almost fallen into a large stream that cut through the landscape like a crystal blue vein. Across the stream a few meters away was a barbaric looking little settlement of misshapen huts crafted from long obsolete ship parts. Smoke billowed up from one and Armitage scrambled back towards the tree line, his heart hammering in his chest.  
Looking up at the second moon Armitage frowned. It beckoned over the smoking chimney as it sat lower than before in the dark twinkling sky and more importantly decidedly southwest. Armitage grit his teeth and began to pace in the snow. He needed to think.  
The longer he was missing from his platoon the worse the punishment would be when he returned. He knew what his father did to defectors. Reconditioning was brutal enough normally during their yearly exams. Enduring it further under his father wasn’t an option. Still he couldn’t very well go marching into a small village in full armor and expect safe passage. The First Order was there to conquer the moon and the native population had made their displeasure quite clear. The arrival of his platoon was meant to be a tactical surprise in a bid to push past the stubborn pocket of insurgents that had made their progression towards the capital an agony. No-he would need to be clever.  
Armitage looked down over the village looking for solutions. A fluttering in the dim moonlight caught his attention. Hanging from the back of one of the huts was a long laundry line draped with pelts. Armitage blinked and looked down at his armor. He tugged at the poly blend bodysuit underneath. Perhaps if he-he grinned and stopped pacing. An idea was coming to him. Quickly he began fumbling at the straps that held his armor plating together. The plates fell into the snow and he stuffed as many as possible down into his knapsack until he was stripped down to the sleek black silhouette of his body suit. 

He buried the larger plates into the snow and with a running leap splashed across a shallow in the steam onto the other side. Shivering he dashed through the snow towards the hut. The plan was simple. He would steal a pelt for warmth and deal with the lesser punishment of losing his uniform. He couldn’t afford to lose time or risk the mission. The rest of the journey would be cold and miserable but he would make it. He just needed a pelt.  
By the time he reached the hut his leg was starting to cramp and he limped jerkily towards the line. One pelt in particular was now his primary focus. It was grey and plush, both desirable aspects in the snowy cold. Not only would it provide warmth but at a distance he would blend in. He stumble up to it and jerked it down off the line. He buried his face in it and sighed. Finally warmth! He draped the pelt over his shoulders and turned.  
That was when he noticed the girl.


	3. Ghost Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose meets Hux for the first time

Rose would have screamed if she had been given the chance but the blur of black lunged before she could think. She braced herself and bent her knees for the impact. As the figure, definitely human, hit her small frame she threw herself backwards with a grunt and tumbled them both over into the snow. They flipped once in a tangle of limbs until they landed with a thud next to the wood pile. Now she was at the advantage, on top just as her grandmother had taught her, and she quickly snatched the fish bone still nestled in her pocket and brought it quickly up towards the jugular of her attacker with a growl. 

Ice blue eyes widened under the pressure and Rose almost jumped back at the sight—almost. Pinned under her small frame was a ghost with pale fire for hair that glowed in the moonlight. His skin was fresh fallen snow, pale and perfect, where it peeked out from the stark black of his bodysuit. He shivered under her, his limbs feeling both fragile and taught with strength all at once, bird wings made of dura-steel, and Rose blushed at the sensation under her thigh. She had never seen someone so beautifully unreal before but he was real and more importantly he was dangerous. Rose switched the bone in favor of her fingers. She wrapped them tightly over his pulse and squeezed just enough to hear him hitch and raised the bone over her head. 

“W-Wait!” the ghost choked. He tried to pry his arms out from under her legs but a snarl and the downward arc of the bone stopped him still. The ice in his eyes melted into tears, likely from choking, as he sputtered. “P-please! I just wanted the pelt! I don’t want to hurt you!”

Rose scoffed but held the bone still, “yeah right, mister, you jumped first remember?”

He coughed as her hand slipped and dug deeper into his pulse point, “I was afraid you would shoot me for stealing…” A tear escaped down his cheek as his eyes flicked frantically towards the little makeshift porch Rose had been moon gazing on earlier when he had appeared suddenly behind the tanning line. She blinked as her gaze landed on the long range blaster rifle her uncle had propped up carelessly by door. She hadn’t even noticed it. 

He wheezed under her and Rose quickly flicked her gaze back to stare down at the ghost slowly turning blue under her palm. She eased the grip on his neck and the ghost took the movement as permission to further plead his case, “I’m sorry, I was cold. I was just going to borrow it for the night.”

Rose flicked him on the forehead, “Cut the poodoo thief, no one just borrows a pelt like that.”   
She could feel him gulp under his palm, “Maybe I could trade for it?”

Rose stifled a laugh, settling on a short bursting snort that burned her sinuses, “or I could just kill you.”

The ghost was still for a long moment and Rose felt anxiety creep up her spine the longer his ice eyes lingered on her face. He was young but considerably taller than her, now that she got a good look at him, and likely older than her and Paige. He wasn’t attempting anything but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t now that she had threatened him. 

His petal pink lips parted into a wry grin, “Somehow I don’t think you will…”

Rose cursed under her breath, he had called her bluff. She tightened the grip on his throat and grinned at the small flicker of panic that bloomed red across his cheeks. She leaned in and tried her best to look tough, “I’m getting up now but if you try anything I’ll slice you to ribbons. Got it?”

He nodded vigorously and Rose threw herself up with a roll and brushed the snow off of her pant legs. The ghost scrambled up to his feet and hugged himself. He was visibly trembling and his lips were taking on a blue tint that almost made her feel sorry him. 

“Why are you outside?” Rose asked, crossing over to the porch and quickly grasping hold of the blaster rifle. She didn’t point it at him. She didn’t have to. He was shivering so much now from being covered in snow that his knees were knocking. Rose glanced back at the cabin. Her uncle and Paige were still asleep inside. The smart thing to do would be to call for her uncle but Rose was buzzing with adrenaline. She had never felt so brave! She had taken on a boy—no man, twice her size and won. 

He took a step forward, towards her and then thought better of it, “I fell… out of our transporter…” he answered with a wince. Rose glanced back over his bodysuit. It was plain and black, the standard for off planet rats as crusty old Mano next door was fond of pointing out when she dropped by for tea and gossip. He must have been one of the traders who were rumored to be fleeing off to Hays Major, Rose thought to herself. As if being one moon over would save them from the Otomok systems ruin, Mano had sputter last time as herbal tea dribbled down her chin. Rose shook the thought out of her head and hiked her thumb over towards the storage shed across from the cabin, “Let’s negotiate in there, I don’t do deals with icicles.” 

He was fast and Rose had to jog to keep up with him. She unbolted the door to the shed and pushed them both inside. As she closed the door she noticed he wasn’t shivering. It wasn’t much warmer inside but there was no wind which was an improvement. He reached behind his back and pulled off a knapsack Rose hadn’t even noticed he was wearing. He didn’t bother to unfurl the top but rather reached his hand into the bag and dug around to the bottom. He pulled his arm out and held his palm out to her. 

Rose stepped forward and peered at the object nestled in his gloves. It was a small figurine, whittled out and blaster burned out of a piece of orange sandstone into the shape of a lopsided loth cat. A Tooka as they were called on Hays. Rose’s grandmother had had one when she was small, a small lumpy sweet thing that had died in the second mining collapse Rose could remember. Rose took the small figure and turned it in the slivers of moonlight that flitted in through the cracks in the shed door. The ghost waited with baited breath as she examined it.   
“You want to trade this? For the pelt?” she asked. He nodded then grimaced and shook his head. 

“I don’t actually but it’s the only thing I have of value.” He paused and shuffled his boot with a scrape on the floor, “I say value but I made it myself so….”

Rose blinked and looked up at the man, young man, maybe boy, in front of her, “You made this?” she asked incredulously. 

He nodded and licked his lips, “Her name is Millicent. She’s my good luck charm.” 

Rose looked down at the tiny figure and felt a lump forming in her throat. The adrenaline was starting to wear off and suddenly she didn’t feel so brave. She felt mean. She handed the figure back to him and shook her head, “I can’t accept this.” He began to protest but she held her hand up to silence him. She silently slipped the scarlet scarf from her neck and with a step forward looped it around the stunned ghost of a man. He gaped at her as she undid the closures of her parka and draped it over his shoulders. It was a size too big for her, something she was supposed to grow into, but it was almost too short for the lanky young man. She gave him a small smile for good measure and stepped back. The ghost boy looked down at the little cat and back at her with an unreadable expression on his face. 

She shrugged and tried not to shiver, “She’s clearly working. You should keep her.” He took a step towards her with a pleading look in her eye but she shook her head, “You’ll have to make do with those, my father needs the pelt tomorrow and it’ll be my hide up on the line if it goes missing.” His eyes widened then steeled at the word father and Rose laughed at the obvious expression of concern. This ghost was amusing, “I’m kidding. I’ll live. He nags a lot. It’s annoying.” 

Ghost Boy slipped his arms through the sleeves of the parka and thrust Millicent back into his knapsack. He held his hand out to her and Rose surprised herself by taking it. He shook it, two curt pumps down, and swallowed thickly. “I must pay you somehow,” he whispered. 

She smiled shyly, feeling cold as his hand dropped to his side, “You could start with a thank you.”  
He nodded vigorously, “Thank you…” He paused searching her face for her name. 

A tingle ran up her spine. Was it the cold or something else? Rose wasn’t sure but it stirred that buzzing feeling in the pit of her stomach. That brave feeling. She turned and looked back over her shoulder on the way to the shed door. “Nope, no names Thief, that cost extra,” She quipped with a wink. She tossed the padlock towards the ghost and he caught it effortlessly, “but since you owe me, you can lock this dump back up.” She shrugged and reached for the door, “You can stay the night if you want but don’t take anything.” She gave him a pointed glare and he nodded.

“Thank you.”  
As Rose forced the door back open the ghost voice called behind her back, “How much extra?”

Rose paused. She was already being much too stupid. The smart thing to do would be to go back to the cabin and wait by the window until he was gone. Rose looked back at him. His blue eyes pierced her own. They had an unnatural light to them. He was interesting, this Ghost Boy, and in a way entirely her’s. She licked her lips and then nodded towards his knapsack, “Maybe sometime you could make me one of those lucky charms?”   
Then she darted through the door with a slam and dashed back towards the safety of the cabin. Back to smart and not so brave. Back to warmth and the land of the living.


End file.
